


improper speculation

by folieafuck



Series: you've redefined your legacy [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Transgender Characters, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folieafuck/pseuds/folieafuck
Summary: “Yes?” she asks, a soft hand darting out to pry the door open further. Maria finds herself at a loss for words, taking in this woman’s pale, perfect skin, her wide eyes, and the baby blue nightgown stopping promisingly at her calf. She forgets what she’s doing here, until Elizabeth Hamilton, presumably, prompts her, “Miss?”This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, George Eacker/Philip Hamilton (1782-1801), Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Series: you've redefined your legacy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895566
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94





	improper speculation

_This isn't how it’s supposed to go_ , Maria Reynolds thinks, perturbed. 

She and James have done this enough times for it to feel like clockwork. She pouts on a politician’s doorstep, lets him take her home to bed, and then, after a few weeks, her husband will send them the blackmail. They get enough money to pay for the month’s rent and then some. James sends her out again. Rinse and repeat. 

This is why she’s standing on Alexander Hamilton’s front porch on the back end of the evening, shivering in her low-cut dress. The design holds two significant purposes: to present the tops of her inviting breasts, and to draw the eye to the deeply-colored splotches that cover her collarbone, shoulders, and disappear into the well-worn fabric of her bodice. 

One thing she doesn’t have to lie about, in her life of constant deception? Her husband truly beats her senseless. The only difference in the truth and her story is that he’s taken off, leaving her destitute and broken; in reality, he’s probably tossing back a glass of scotch in the kitchen at this very second, patiently waiting for her return. When she comes home, of course, he’ll resume his physical and psychological warfare. This is the only reprieve she'll ever get, so she'd better stick her tits out and start whimpering.

Maria raps against the cool wood, forgoing the brass knocker after a moment’s hesitation. She’s done enough research to know that the Hamilton’s have a few children, and the last thing she’d want to do would be rousing a gaggle of curious tots. She also knows Mrs. Hamilton has taken most of said children with her to travel upstate, so her activities should not be interrupted. Even so, she knocks with her knuckles, just in case her and James' intel is anything less than sound.

It seems to be the _opposite_ of sound, when a beautiful, sleepy, raven-haired woman answers her call.

“Yes?” she asks, a soft hand darting out to pry the door open further. Maria finds herself at a loss for words, taking in this woman’s pale, perfect skin, her wide eyes, and the baby blue nightgown stopping promisingly at her calf. She forgets what she’s doing here, until Elizabeth Hamilton, presumably, prompts her, “Miss?”

_This isn’t how it’s supposed to go._

Clearing her throat, Maria lets her shoulders sag, her face darken, and the first alligator tear fall. Instead of panicking as she so badly wants to, she sticks to the script. “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, ma’am,” she starts, leaning slightly into the doorway. “I know it’s late, but I—”

The lady of the house interrupts her with an audible gasp. Confused, Maria goes to move back, afraid she’s startled her. Instead of recoiling, however, Mrs. Hamilton darts a hand out to grasp at her shoulder. She pulls her in even closer, and Maria realizes she’s noticed the bruises. 

“Have you been attacked?” Those addictive eyes swarm across her torso with raw concern. Maria feels the first throes of guilt claw up her throat. “Please, come inside. It’s too dark for me to see you.”

For once, Maria has no response. No matter the weird things she has to do to get somebody off, nor the rare times she's run into a conquest’s spouse and subsequently spun them a tale of epic proportions, she has never been shown such brazen compassion; certainly not from a wife, and certainly not in the middle of the night, when this woman is who she is, and Maria is so clearly something else. 

Her bewilderment gives the woman ample time to drag her inside the foyer, shutting the door behind them with a bare foot. Maria hardly has the time to adjust to the dim candlelight before she's led to sit atop a heavenly soft couch. Not even her and James’ bed is as delicate as this seat, she thinks. As she settles, Mrs. Hamilton rests a more comforting hand on her exposed, beaten skin. The sheer contrast, the white to the black, the soft to the hard, makes her dizzy.

“My name is Elizabeth Hamilton,” she says, as if Maria hadn’t learned that a week prior from scouring the newspapers, “but, please, call me Eliza. I’m going to go find my husband, Alexander, if that’s alright.”

If it’s alright? What should a lady of high government and wealth bother with an obvious whore, swathed in purple by her own disobedience? In fear of making an even bigger fool of herself, Maria quickly nods, choking on the, “Of course, my lady,” that she knows is expected. Even whores learn manners. _Especially_ whores.

Eliza fixes her with a troubled look before she turns and rounds a corner behind her that, no doubt, leads to her and her husband’s bedroom. Maria looks from the wooden furniture, the melted candles, the paintings and pictures lining every well-tended surface, and she realizes this is her one chance to bolt. If she gives them the slip now, she’ll be home in ten minutes. She’ll have to deal with James’ wrath, returning unfucked and unpaid, but she knows she’d be on the receiving end of his negative emotions even if she _had_ managed to score tonight. 

The first time they’d gone through with this thing had been filled with paranoid kisses and hysterical giggles neither could bear to repress. When he’d dragged a calloused hand against the inside of her thigh and whispered about a coworker of his, a coworker who was sexy and sweet and loaded that he thought Maria would just eat up, she’d been excited. That first time had been the only time she’d enjoyed herself, out of the dozens that followed. Monroe had been a pleasant change to Reynold’s insane sex, offering to serve her before he slowly took her apart. After a week of this, she and James had written the extortion letter together, switching quills when one became too aroused with the other to finish a sentence.

When their first dirty paycheck arrived, he’d actually split it with her. She’d bought the red dress, because James had sweetly suggested it.

The next client had been a man named Venable; to her, he was Senator. He hadn’t been attractive nor polite, favoring instead to pin her to her own mattress and get familiar with an area she herself had not yet explored. After he had left, James had wandered in, a cigar in his mouth. Maria had croaked from the ruined sheets, bleeding, crying, “Why?”

He eyed her for a while, taking his time on his tobacco. When it had finally burned into a blackened stub, he’d flicked it onto her white carpet, then splayed a hand across the small of her boiling back.

“Because I own you,” he’d replied simply.

He didn’t split the money, that time, nor any other time after that.

“My lady?” Maria startles so badly at the male voice, she nearly slips off of the glorious seat. 

Gathering her wits, she stands and takes in the owner of the low, sweet tone. When James had read the articles describing Alexander Hamilton aloud, he’d painted him as a ratty, bookish man, one who would stoop and glower and hiss at anyone who disagreed with him. Instead of the unpleasant figure she expects, she finds him to be very attractive indeed. He’s dressed in bed clothes, having the questionable sense to throw a jacket over his shoulders, as if it would make him look more professional at this hour. He’s wearing glasses, yes, but the eyes behind the prescription are expressive, glimmering, interested. Loose brown locks fall in waves to his shoulders, shrouding him in a shadow of his own design.

“Sir,” she swallows, "my deepest apologies for waking you.”

Alexander snorts, much to Eliza’s barely subdued distaste. Either he doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it, because he bows slightly and says aloud, “Miss, I’ve been awake since seven o’clock this morning, so this is a most welcome distraction to my work. How may I…”

When he trails off, Maria looks up from the floor to see his jaw hanging slightly open. He must be noticing her injuries for the first time, too; yet no other gentleman she’s had relations with has even given her wounds a second glance. She’s stunned further when he steps closer, then drops to one knee and holds out a hesitant hand. “May I? I’m no doctor, but I attended premed in college. These look...they…”

In response, and to cut off whatever Mr. Hamilton was about to say, Maria shakily takes his wrist between her slim fingers and guides his hand well above her neckline. Eliza lights a lamp nearby as Alexander presses as gently as he can into the bruise clouding her lower jaw, the one James had planted on her that very morning. It still hurts, but Maria squeezes her eyes shut, to keep from flinching. Men don’t like when you flinch. 

“May I ask your name, Miss?” Eliza’s worried voice carries over Maria’s shoulder. 

She keeps her eyes shut. “Maria, my lady.”

A beat passes, and Maria can practically feel the look the couple are sharing with one another. It seems tense, almost emotional, but it must not be negative. They don't push for her surname. Instead, Eliza rests the tips of her fingers on a yellow blotch covering the top of her shoulder.

“Eliza, please,” she says, almost whispering. Alexander is still touching her neck, and her skin is vibrating a little. “Some of these look as recent as tonight, and some of them are weeks into healing. What’s happened?”

Agonizingly slowly, Maria opens her eyes, terrified of what she might see and heart fluttering of its own accord in a situation where it shouldn’t. Alexander is standing, now, but he’s slow to stop touching Maria’s neck. Eliza hasn’t moved her hand, and she seems to have no intention to. They seem to be genuinely worried for her, for this beaten girl who showed up on their doorstep in tears. How can this be possible? How can she lie to them?

Maria laces her fingers together in her lap, forcing herself to ignore the ethereal touch on the top of her spine, the lingering feeling of a gentle man’s hands on her feverish skin. 

She proceeds to lie to the Hamilton's.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When she falls asleep that night, bathed, dressed, treated, she expects to wake up in a panic. She’s fucked many men in many different locations, but she’s always managed to slip away, so she can at least give herself the comfort of a familiar bed to sleep in. That is, after James has had whatever way with her he’s chosen for the evening.

Instead of jolting up, gasping and clutching her chest, Maria gradually wakes. Her legs stretch out underneath the silky sheets, then her arms, then her torso. She even rolls over a few times, subconsciously seeking out the cold patches, before she even opens her eyes. She’s greeted with an empty side of a giant, beautiful mattress, draped with some lace canopy. A large wooden dresser sits next to her, that damned dress presumably cleaned and now folded on top.

She’s in Alexander Hamilton’s house, but she didn’t sleep with him and then forego her golden rule. His wife had answered the door, instead, and they had taken her in; they spoke sweetly to her, and had touched her in such a tender, unfamiliar way that simply thinking about it makes her hide her face beneath the duvet. Eliza had run a bath for her herself, and had laid out a nightgown she’d said her younger sister had forgotten on her last visit. Maria cast her gaze down whenever the woman tried to make eye contact, because the look she saw every time was so honest in it’s empathy, she couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stomach taking in that gorgeous face twisted in worry for a prostitute who had lied to her.

After she’d gotten dressed, Alexander had provided her with a salve to soothe the most irritated of her injuries. She could somehow tell he’d wanted to apply it himself, but had decided beforehand this wasn’t an option. The awful woman that she is, she’d _wanted_ him to; and not for his paycheck, whatever grand total that may be. She just wanted to feel the soft hands of a man who had never hit his wife on her beaten body again. 

Now here she lies, staring at the dress, wading in her own shame. She must face them. There’s no window to crawl out of, nor an unlocked back door to force not to squeak. As she rises, laying her feet on the wooden floor, she muses over the fact that even if she could, she doesn’t really want to. But, surely, James must be looking for her. He must be combing the city at this very moment, right?

Yeah, right. She stands, turns, and makes the bed as well as she can, as if no-one had slept there at all. She eyes the dress warily, then her sleeping gown, before creeping to the dresser and sliding open the top drawer. A few folded garments sit on top, most apparently men’s clothing, and she resigns herself to wearing her old dress. Then, she spies something much smaller than the rest. She pulls out a striped shirt and ironed pants, tailored to that of maybe a teenager around her size. Maria knows what they may think, Eliza and Alexander, but she puts on the men’s clothing, anyways. She’s too nauseous at the thought of wearing last night’s transgressions anew.

It fits well, actually. She’s worn some of James’ clothing in the privacy of their home, and in the early stages of their marriage, he had found it endearing. Spending time with her friends of the night, more often than not, someone will be wearing the latest customer’s jacket or pants, or even their stupid hat; not a harlot among them will comment. Wearing a near stranger’s clothes without permission, of course, is a little different, so she mentally prepares for the fallout as she descends the stairs. She feels sixteen again, presenting her first and last set of chaps to her parent’s immediate horror.

When she reaches the bottom, the first thing she sees is the back of a young man, leaning against the kitchen island and speaking to someone she can’t see. “—isn’t like it hasn’t happened before,” he’s currently groaning, a sarcastic hand reaching out to the other unseen member of the conversation. “Tell Eacker _he’s_ the one who should suck up to the dean. He wrote the article about Dad, not me.”

A bell of a laugh sounds behind the wall, and Maria is struck again by that thundering feeling in her chest. She’s elated at hearing Eliza, oddly enough, but she also fears the reprimand the boy’s going to face. If she spoke that way to James…

“You tell him then, tough guy.” A slim fist lamely slugs the boy in the arm, and his laughter is startlingly similar to that of Mrs. Hamilton’s. “I’m not the one who punched him in the face during a lecture.”

“Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing, Ma!” The young man raises his arms in the air and swivels, as if to make a dramatic exit.

Instead, he skids to a halt, seeing Maria hovering on the foot of the stairs. His amber eyes widen.

Before Maria can spit another falsehood, the boy tilts his head to the side and says, not unkindly, “Hello, my lady. Why are you wearing my clothes?”

Maria feels her entire body flush pink. Eliza suddenly rushes in behind him, taking in her guest’s attire for only a second before she places a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Philip, this is Maria.” Philip immediately bows, even takes a step forward to kiss her hand, and her embarrassment fades a little. “She’s come down on some hard times, so we’ve allowed her to say for the night.”

Maria curtsies, the absence of a skirt hilarious, frightening, and thrilling, all at the same time. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hamilton.”

Philip breaks into an ear-splitting grin, one that makes Maria return it despite herself. “Aw, that’s my dad,” he croaks, the first crack in his charismatic exterior breaking through. “Call me Philip. You want me to kill whoever put that thing on your face?”

The upturned collar has done well to conceal most of her bruises, but she supposes nothing can quite hide the dark shades outlining her jaw and throat. Eliza seems to clench at his shoulder harder, making him wince, but Maria waves a meek hand and clears the space between them to the kitchen. “It’s alright, Eliza.” Eliza visibly relaxes, even releasing Philip to return to whatever she’d been working on over the stove. The fact that Maria’s mere allowance had calmed her so does not escape Maria one bit. “There’s no need, Mr. H—I mean, Philip. My husband’s...taken off. That’s why I turned to your family for help last night, because I had nowhere else to go.”

Her hesitance, although unremarked on by Eliza, clearly doesn’t escape her son. “I’m glad you found us,” is what he settles on, stooping low to grab the satchel no doubt containing his textbooks. To his mother, he says, “I’ll talk to the dean, Ma. Yes, _and_ George. I love you.” 

He leans over the counter to kiss her on the cheek, and with a perplexed smile back at Maria, he’s out the door.

After a beat of silence, Eliza still bent over a pan, Maria seats herself in the stool Philip had been leaning over. She’d offer to help, but the older woman seems to be hovering over one dish only, so Maria’s content to watch her work in a peaceful quiet. Whatever it is smells delicious, sizzling and almost spicy.

Abruptly, Eliza faces her, holding out a fork. “Tell me if this is any good,” she offers, her nose wrinkling in mock disgust. “I think it’s too hot.”

It seems to be a sausage of some kind, so Maria gingerly takes a bite, hyper aware of the curious eyes on her. In fact, it’s delicious; the quick, sharp burn of whatever fresh peppers Eliza’s managed to use go with the meat perfectly. Maria expresses this by clapping with her mouth full, which brings a smile to Eliza’s face that looks near the same as Philip’s.

“Alexander’s at work,” Eliza answers the unspoken question, filling a plate with the sausage, eggs, a buttered bread of some kind, and deglazed fruits, “he’ll be back sometime tonight. I have the house to tend to, and a few bits of paperwork he’s left for me to look over, so I’d love it if you would keep me company.”

The plate is deposited directly in front of Maria, complete with silverware and a glass of juice, so she mumbles her thanks and delicately digs in. After the first few bites, Eliza sits next to her with her own breakfast. The food seems to be overshadowed by the sweet perfume she’s wearing, and, stronger than that, the pleasant smell of a clean, bright, breathtaking woman, something Maria hasn’t been allowed to be near for quite some time.

“I like it,” Eliza says. Maria’s unclear, until those unworked hands wrap themselves around her collar to turn it down properly. “Fits you much better than it ever did that lanky thing I call a son.”

She says this with a smile, so Maria grins back, relieved at the mere fact of not being kicked out. “Thank you, Eliza, I’m sorry for taking them. I just...I just couldn’t wear that dress again.”

Eliza keeps her hands firmly on Maria’s collar, although somewhere in this verbal back-and-forth, her touch seems to have migrated to her collarbone. It’s reminiscent of the older woman’s husband; but instead of rough calluses on a careful person, it’s a smooth touch of a woman who knows who she is, where she is, and what she wants. Maria would die to relate. 

“You look more stunning in this, anyway,” Eliza chuckles, a sound so masculine and yet so pretty, Maria is once again thrown into a bout of vertigo. “Philip’s outgrown these, he’ll get over it. He’s just like his father, I swear.”

Maria’s floundering for a response, and Eliza seems to realize, because she slides the plate of food closer to her and says, “Eat it while it’s hot, honey.”

She feels like she’s drowning. Instead of voicing this, Maria obeys, melting like the aforementioned sweet.

Once they’ve finished and deposited their dishes for later cleaning, Eliza takes Maria on an aborted tour of the house. They make it about halfway through before she gets overwhelmed. The grand furniture adorning every square inch, the priceless statues lining the shelves, and the sense that every painting is following her ascent come together to form a sickening spectacle. Again, Eliza somehow notices, and dismisses them into one of Alexander’s offices for a breather.

Slumping on the leather cushions, sweating like herself in church, Maria watches Eliza watch her. She’s hovering in the doorway, that peculiar expression on her face as she stares at Maria unabashedly. Here’s a woman who doesn’t give a damn if she’s being rude, at least in this instance. It’s her house, her kindness, and if Maria takes issue with her sizing up, she can hit the road. Of course, Eliza doesn’t say this, but Maria can just tell. She waits for the finishing blow, for her eyebrows to smooth out and her polite tone to indicate it’s time to go.

Instead, Eliza clears the space of the room and falls down next to her. Maria peeks up, letting herself trip a little bit into the abyss of Eliza’s eyes. Impossible to read, they glow with a well-earned discipline, an exuberance. Her smooth palm rests on Maria’s shoulder, two fingers engulfing one of the many, many bruises; at this point, she’s not sure if they’ll ever go away. Will she still be able to see them, once they’ve healed and there’s no discrepancy between the whole of her dark skin? 

“Maria,” Eliza says softly, and her tone is not polite, but that of someone about to talk you off of the cliff. “Is everything okay? I know it’s a silly question, but something seems to be bothering you this morning.”

Looking anywhere but those eyes, Maria intones, “My husband’s gone.”

“Fuck your husband.” Before Maria can gape, Eliza’s thumb begins to trace the contusion over her chest, as if to calm her. It almost works. “What’s going on in _there_? Right now?”

She hopes the erratic beating of her heart isn’t obvious. “I just…” Stumbling over her words, she wracks her brain for an appropriate excuse, a flourish to her tale she could add to avoid incriminating herself. But it’s as if everything has ceased to exist, except for Eliza’s hand moving on her shoulder, her knuckles over her breast, and her eyes sucking out all the light in the room.

She doesn’t budge. She simply raises an eyebrow, as if to ask which direction Maria’s going to take this. Which direction indeed?

Hands falling into her own lap, Maria looks down, ashamed, afraid, and whispers, “I lied to you and Alex, Eliza.”

She sounds so much like her daughter for a moment, she’s thrown more out of her element. Stepping outside of her and James’ agreement feels like she’s set fire to the Constitution, but it’s the only place she can go at this point. Lying further would feel like pissing on the damn thing.

Eliza, for her part, doesn’t look surprised. She keeps her face still, the brow still up, and the question blatant. So, sitting on a couch worth more than her entire income, Eliza’s hands still on her, Maria tells her everything. She tells her about the first time, how it’d been thrilling and exhilarating and how they’d worked together; she tells her about the second, traumatizing event, how each one after that had become a blur of sex and pain and cash in the mail. It takes her a minute to gather herself, but she even tells Eliza her plan to sleep with her husband and extort them for everything they were worth. 

By the end of her confession, her throat is dry and her eyes are wet, but she feels as if a thousand pounds of weight have been lifted off of her shoulders. She takes a deep breath, gulping the first truthful air she’s taken in years, before she wills herself to look at Eliza and discover her fate.

Eliza’s expression still hasn’t changed, no doubt a result of extensive social training, but Maria can see the gears in her mind turning. It isn’t unlike Alexander, who has to stop for a moment mid-argument to find wherever the fact he’s looking for went. She steels herself to rise and leave before Eliza has to ask her to; but, suddenly, two lithe arms are wrapped around her waist, and her head is gently pushed into the crook of Eliza’s neck. Maria realizes that she’s an idiot. As if whatever vanilla scent has been applied to Eliza’s skin could drown out the sheer smell of _her_.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Eliza whispers, and Maria bursts into tears.

Eliza starts to stroke her back, but Maria pulls away to find her eyes. She has to look into them, now, to figure out what the hell is going on. “No! What on earth would you apologize for, Eliza? I had every intention of ruining your life!”

Eliza’s stoic face cracks a little, as she allows the sweetest of smiles to cross her face. Maria feels humbled by it, christened, even. “You know what I think your intention was?” She wipes an inky tear from dripping off of Maria’s jaw. “Survival. Love. Help. And we want to give you all of that.”

Maria dissolves into sobs again, and this time, she lets Eliza draw her in and caress her. Into her dress, Maria mumbles, “I came looking for a fuck and a paycheck, and then you answered the door.”

“And then I answered the door.” Eliza’s lips find their way to the top of Maria’s scalp. She doesn’t continue.

They must lie there for hours, because Philip comes home around four o’clock, sauntering in as if Washington himself had told him what a stellar chum he is. Maria reluctantly rouses herself after some playful gestures from Eliza, letting her pretend to look busy at the desk as she wanders out into the foyer. The boy unceremoniously crashes onto the nearest chair, and she sits across from him, watching the grin from that morning spread two-fold across his freckled face. “Guess what happened today, Maria?” he asks her, as if they were old friends meeting over tea. 

She rests her chin on her hand, as if she were, in fact, that friend. “No telling.”

“George Eacker said he was sorry! To _me_!” At her apparent lack of knowledge to the name, he spreads his arms out, in a now characteristic form of expression. “Me and this guy have been fighting all semester. He writes for the school paper, and he published this shitty article about my dad, thinking I wouldn’t say anything!”

He leans back farther, as if becoming prouder and prouder of himself. “So I punched him in the face two days ago, during Economics. Not out of the blue, either. He’d been telling the kids next to him how I was gonna choke on my presentation just because Dad messed up a cabinet meeting _once_ , and...and, well, I did what Ma said. I talked to him.”

Maria waits for him to continue, but he stops, as if waiting for something himself. She gives him what he wants: “And?”

He’s so pleased, he almost rolls onto the floor. “And he said he was sorry, and that he was only trying to start a discussion about the financial state of our country around campus, which I _totally _understand, and…”__

____

Her mirth must be apparent, because he stops halfway through and pokes her knee with the tip of his shoe. “You’re ahead of me already.”

____

“It seems like a natural progression, ” Maria shrugs coyly. Philip barks out a laugh before skipping back onto his feet and ruffling her hair, oddly enough. She must be at least ten years older than him.

____

“Speaking of natural progressions...” but he’s gone before she hears the rest of the sentence. There’s a knocking on the office door, then the click of admission as it swings open. 

____

__Alexander comes home a few hours later, when Maria and Eliza are just finishing dinner. If Eliza’s observed her panicked silence, she hasn’t said anything; Maria can’t ignore, however, the few lingering touches she’d leave on her neck, her arm, and the small of her back. By the time Alex is hanging up his coat, she’s equal parts distressed and on fire._ _

____

__“Maria!” The smile that grows on Alexander’s face sends a new cacophony of emotions whirling through her. He steps into the kitchen, kisses Eliza, then rests a hand on her shoulder. If she thought she’d been strung out spending the day with his wife, just his kind, careful touch on her skin sends everything into overdrive. “You’re gracing us with your presence another night? And I must say, these fit you handsomely.”_ _

____

She manages a weak grin in return, even going as far to place a shaky hand over Alexander’s. She can _hear_ Eliza’s smirk. “Oh, thank you, Alexander. Yes, Eliza graciously offered me the room again. If that’s alright with you, of course—”

____

__His thumb comes up to trace a little circle over the web of her thumb, briefly paralyzing her. “Nothing would make me happier,” he says. To distract from her repeat suicide mission, she swiftly ducks out from his hand and starts to set the table._ _

____

__Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the couple make eye contact for a few seconds, just like before. They say nothing, their faces don’t betray them, but there’s a silent conversation going on only they can be privy to. Her heart pangs. She folds everyone’s napkins._ _

____

__The kids come down to eat, and Maria meets them all in turn: Alex Jr., excited at the prospect of a new participant in his dinnertime debates; Angelica, her hair curled around the back of her head and her tongue even sharper than her father’s; James, keeping mostly to himself but still peeking up at her with interest from time to time; William, who’s finished with his plate before anybody else; and baby John, who grips onto her finger with a gusto saved for her more ruthless clientele. She and Philip seem to get along the best, her making offhand comments on his stories and him challenging her to prove it. It provides a very welcome distraction, and an excellent source of entertainment for the family._ _

____

__When everyone’s finished and race off to their respective rooms, the three adults make their way into the foyer, where they sit on the couch and Alexander seems to produce wine glasses out of thin air. “This is what I look forward to all day,” he tells Maria, pouring the women their drinks and handing it to them before he pours his own, “getting to unwind with my beautiful wife and her beautiful company.”_ _

____

Eliza huffs a laugh before taking a delicate sip. “ _After_ you and Jefferson go at it for a few hours.”

____

__Alexander shrugs, the smile on his face betraying the truth of the statement. “Well, I need something to relax from, don’t I, my dear?”_ _

____

__“If you need an excuse to spend time with your wife…” He pokes her in the shoulder, sticking his tongue out with all the maturity of John._ _

____

__Maria drinks from her own chalice, feeling out-of-place. She shouldn’t be here, in a married couple’s house, under the pretense of exploiting them and then harboring primary school crushes. She knows exactly what James would say right now, if he were sitting next to her, with his possessive hand on her thigh:_ _

____

_You think these people would give a fuck about you? Really? You know the only person who could love you is me, baby. Better come on home, now, before you tell Hamilton about our little plan and he beats the shit out of you_ for _me_.

____

__The hand on her thigh is suddenly real, and she looks down in surprise to see a small, white palm on her pants. She traces up the arm to the face, where Eliza’s tilting her head and smiling at her. Alex is looking confused, glancing between the two women, before he takes his glasses off to give Maria his full attention._ _

____

__She isn’t sure how she’s going to do it, until Eliza squeezes her thigh with not ownership but reassurance, and she’s got just enough confidence to recount her crimes. Unlike the talk with Eliza, Alexander’s expressions make his thoughts obvious: bewilderment, anger, empathy, sadness, and back to anger. As she finishes up, Alex wordlessly begins running his hands over her bruises. He starts from the almost faded on her jaw, down her neck, to the newer lining her collarbone and shoulders. Eliza keeps her hand tight on her leg. Maria trembles._ _

____

__Finally, Alex’s hand goes back to the start and cups her chin, taking extra care not to hurt her. A man’s hand, only showing her affection. She wasn’t sure that was even attainable, for her, but here she is. She meets his amber eyes and can only find what she saw in Eliza’s: understanding beyond belief. Trust. Want._ _

____

“I’m going to kill him,” he finally says, voice audibly shaking. “How dare he...how could a man...Maria. _Maria_.”

____

__How many times can Maria cry in one day? “Why don’t you hate me?” she pleads, hating the damp way her words come out. “Why do you two keep forgiving me? You should kick me out and send me right back to him.”_ _

____

__A wild noise leaves Alex’s mouth, and Eliza’s arms suddenly wrap around her shoulders from behind. “No, no, no, no,” she whispers._ _

____

"No,” Alex seconds, his other hand cupping her cheek. “You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you have to keep paying for it, and especially not for that bastard. Have you ever thought about doing something you want to do? Not for James, not for survival, but for _you_?”

____

__She blinks, looks from the hands meeting at her belly to the palms cupping her face like she’s something special, to be cared for and loved and not broken...and she leans forwards, meeting Alexander’s mouth with her own._ _

____

__The happy sigh Eliza lets out from behind her coincides perfectly with Alex’s whine, one he quickly hides in her mouth as he starts to explore. She lets her hands fall to Eliza’s, lacing their fingers together as she leans into Alex. With James, she’d had to stand on tip-toes to kiss him, much to his sadistic delight; but Alex barely beats her height, so she can comfortably fit into him, lick at his teeth, and not have to strain for it like a prize._ _

____

When they have to pull away for air, Alex’s face is pleasantly flush, the few locks of hair in his face already frizzing up. Maria can’t help but giggle, because this is the first time in years she’s _enjoyed_ looking at the man she was kissing. He’s pretty in every sense of the word, but with a hardened edge that she can’t help but feel excited to poke at.

____

__With a spin, she’s facing Eliza, Alex’s hands around her waist now. Eliza presses their foreheads together, lacing her fingers in her hair. “You’re cute when you’re having fun,” she hums, then bends down a little to kiss the warm lips her husband had just been on._ _

____

__Maria makes a noise this time, because Alex’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, and Eliza wastes no time biting her bottom lip. She’s shaking on her feet, and if she wasn’t surrounded on both sides by Hamilton's, she’d probably have fallen over by now. As soon as it’s started, it’s over, Eliza’s gorgeous face taking up all her vision. Alex starts kissing her neck, then, and she can’t quite see straight._ _

____

__“Let her breathe, Alex,” Eliza murmurs, and Alex immediately ceases fire, content to rest his chin on Maria’s shoulder. “This okay, sweetheart?”_ _

____

__Maria nods quickly, making Eliza chuckle and kiss her cheek. “I...I forgot how good that could feel.”_ _

____

__Eliza’s face saddens a bit, and she pulls Maria into a full embrace, Alex closing it off behind her. She can’t pull up a time she’d ever felt so safe, not even when she’d been a child and her mother would halfheartedly fend off her fears. This, right here, is the apex of everything Maria hasn’t allowed herself to have. This is the feeling she’d always wanted with her husband, one she’d almost tasted that first night together, but something he’d refused to allow her. He didn’t think she deserved it. They do._ _

____

__“You left the candles on,” an amused voice calls, and all three stagger apart to face the speaker. Philip leans against the door, curls loose around his face and his pajamas hanging off of him. “I thought Dad fell asleep working again, but I can see I’ve interrupted something magical.”_ _

____

__“Philip…” Alex starts, a correcting finger beginning to raise, but he stops in his tracks as Maria bursts into laughter. She leans against Eliza, trying to smother herself, but the pleased smile growing on Philip’s face only makes her lose it more._ _

____

__After a moment, she wipes her eyes, then practically skips forwards to ruffle his hair. She has to strain up a bit, but he immediately bends down for her._ _

____

__“Natural progression,” she whispers, and lets his chuckles carry her all the way to the guest bedroom._ _

____

__─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───_ _

____

__Maria meets George Eacker the next afternoon, when Eliza invites her to visit Philip at school. He usually walks home, she explains in the shaded back of their carriage, but she likes making trips down there every few weeks to check on his progress. “Just because he’s in college,” she grins, an ankle thrown comfortably over Maria’s, “doesn’t mean he’s responsible enough to keep track of everything himself.”_ _

____

__Maria, who’s only used to seeing her sweet baby Susan in the early hours before school and the rare moments she makes it home before bedtime, doesn’t comment. She and James are far from rich, but his damage claims and the money she brings home stretch just enough for a daytime nanny. She’s some glittering, charming young thing, her hair always perfect and her mouth always silent. She isn’t a talkative one, this Miss Bullet, but Susan lines her bedroom walls with drawings of them together and seems to be learning her letters well, so Maria’s more than happy to let her stay._ _

____

__The stuttering of the wheels indicate their stop, and the driver graciously helps both women out. Maria’s wearing one of Eliza’s old dresses, too terrified to leave the safety of the house in anything different. The soft blue and the scratchy ruffles aren’t her favorite, and Eliza had expressed her displeasure at not seeing Maria in masculine wear again, but she’d laced it up and shoved her feet in some heels anyways. At least it covers most of her injuries._ _

____

__They find Philip in the lecture hall, his worn bag hanging off of one arm and the other leaning against the wall. He and a young man are engaged in a heated debate, but based on the gleeful expression on the stranger’s face, Maria assumes it isn’t too serious. As they approach, they can make out the tail end of their conversation._ _

____

“—almost like you _agree_ with me, Hamilton,” the young man nearly purrs, the black bits of scruff lining his jaw curling up with his grin.

____

__Philip chokes on an fake laugh. “You wish, George. Coinciding the truth of one of your points does not a compromise make.”_ _

____

__Rolling his eyes, the taller boy takes a step back, noiselessly inviting Philip to follow him. Which he does. “And fancy words don’t make you smart, babe.”_ _

____

__Based on body language, Maria has a hunch Philip is about to come up with a creative way to shut him up; so she and Eliza move forwards at the exact same time, sharing grins as they tap on Philip’s back. He leaps a foot into the air and ends up backing into the young man, much to his apparent enjoyment. When Philip sees them, he quickly brushes off the front of his uniform, but keeps his position against the boy’s chest. “Mom! Maria! Hi!” His voice raises in pitch at the end, and Maria bites back a laugh of her own. “Maria, this is George. The kid from Economics?”_ _

____

__Maria sticks out her hand, and she thinks she surprises George with the strength of her shake. “Nice to meet the man I’ve heard so much about,” she greets, causing Philip to turn a new shade of crimson and George to beam like the cat that caught the canary._ _

____

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, but before he continues with his planned dialogue, he stops mid-breath. With a bewildered look, he searches her face for a few moments, and before either she or Eliza can say something, he lights up. “Maria _Reynolds_! I knew I knew you!”

____

__She feels herself going rigid, but she refuses to look back at Eliza. “From where, may I ask?”_ _

____

__George shakes Philip’s arm a little, to renew his attention. “Susan’s your daughter, right? My half-sister, Sally, is her nanny.”_ _

____

__Recognition dawns on Philip’s features, but Maria only feels her heart plunge deep into her stomach, the sunlight from the windows fading until she can only make out George’s blissfully unaware silhouette. “Miss Bullet?” she asks shakily, unsure if she’s even said it aloud._ _

____

__Oblivious, George nods, although the fuzzy outline of Philip’s face seems to twist, assessing the situation. “That’s her. She don’t talk much, as I’m sure you gathered. But she loves your baby, and you and your husband kept a roof over our heads when our dad had to stop working for a while. We can’t thank you enough.”_ _

____

__She nods, more out of instinct than anything. “N-no need to thank me, Mr. Eacker. Susan loves Miss—ah, I mean, Sally. She’s saved me and James many a working day.”_ _

____

__George absently runs his hands through Philip’s locks, a gesture so soft that the innocent words that follow hurt even worse. “He told me the very same thing this morning.”_ _

____

__Everything else seems to happen in fragments, like she’s taking in every aspect of the scene separately: Philip’s concern fading into accusation, Eliza’s hand reaching up to cup the small of her back, and George’s face falling as he feels the shift in the room._ _

____

__“This morning?” Philip turns around to look up at George. “You saw her husband this morning?”_ _

____

__Perplexed, George nods, his dark hand still lost in the brown-blonde of Philip’s scalp. “Sure I did. Sally forgot some of her teaching materials, so I brought them up to the house for her. James even told me to say hello, strangely enough. I wasn’t sure you really existed, I just recognized you from all the pictures.”_ _

____

__Maria’s mouth opens, but no words come out. Philip straightens, nearly knocking George’s teeth out with his head. “Then why did you tell me he left you?”_ _

____

__Eliza seems about ready to interfere, and George is looking around them all with disorientation, but Maria takes a hesitant step forward before either can proceed. That bone-deep nausea returns when Philip recoils from her. “Because I was scared,” she trembles, hating her voice, hating her lies, hating herself. “You saw what he did to me, Philip, you know. I didn’t think I had another choice.”_ _

____

Philip snorts, the sound she’d loved the other day drilling an emptiness inside of her. “Didn’t have another choice? So you just _had_ to lie to my face, to gain some more sympathy points? Make me look like an idiot? Good to know. George, let’s go.” 

__

__Shell-shocked, George willingly follows his pissed tirade down the corridor and into another hallway. As soon as they disappear from sight, Maria sinks to the floor, burying her face in her knees._ _

__

__“Maria,” Eliza starts, trying to comfort her; but when she touches the top of Maria’s head, she swallows back a sob, remembering the sweetness of the young men who had just exposed her. “Baby, please, class is about to let out. We have to go.”_ _

__

__She can’t embarrass Eliza, not in front of her son’s classmates. She can’t sit here and stew in her hospitality, in Alexander’s swimming pool heart, for another night-walking minute. She jumps to her small heels, tugging them off with finality before charging down the hall, in the opposite direction of Philip. Eliza calls after her, her own shoes clicking against the worn wood, but Maria is much faster, much more skilled in the art of evasion. She shakes her off easily, slipping in and out of random rooms much to the chagrin of the few leftover alumni._ _

__

__When she stumbles out onto the front lawn, she waves off the questioning coachman and races down the cobblestone streets. She isn’t crying, this time, but the pain welding deep inside her chest hurts worse than any of the blows James had dealt her. She’d take it all over again, let him pimp her out and batter her bloody, if she could just erase the betrayed expression on Philip’s face. Is all she’s good for just a quick fuck and an abrasive personality? Does she truly have to hurt everyone she loves?_ _

__

__She’s deep in these panicked thoughts when she collides with someone. Stammering, she apologizes, and stoops down to pick the boy’s books up; but there are no books on the ground. There’s only a brand new pair of leather boots, toes pointed inwards. Maria shakily looks up at his slick jeans, his neat flannel shirt, and the sparkling bolo tie fastened deep into his collar. Agonizingly slowly, not willing to acknowledge who’s in front of her, she gets to his face, and that stupid fucking hat._ _

__

__James Reynolds is snarling, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a sickening parody of a smile. “My poor, sweet Maria,” he croons, grasping her hands before she can move away. “A little college freshman told me he’d seen you on campus, but I didn’t believe him. I guess I owe Mr. Eacker an apology, huh?”_ _

__

Her mind reduces itself to nothing but _get away from him, get away right now, go, go, go, go_ , and she tries to tear herself from his grip. Instead of budging, he squeezes her wrists tighter, no doubt leaving a fresh collection of his love wounds. “Where you going, baby? Back to Mr. Hamilton and his nice, big mansion? Nice try. You really think you can dip on me and keep all that cash to yourself?" 

__

“ _LET GO_!” Maria yanks her arms back hysterically, still not crying, to her minuscule pride. James smirks wider, pulling her to his chest. The motion is so unlike the caresses and the kisses she got in this very same position last night, she almost loses consciousness at the horror of it. All she can think about is where he’s going to take her back to, what he’s going to do to her, and how she can forget about the brief reprieve she’d felt with the Hamilton's. Will she be able to erase Eliza’s hands under her men’s shirt...Alex’s careful fingers, tracing her veins…? 

__

__“I fucking own you.” James clenches her hair in a hand, lifting her head up sharply so she’s forced to crane her neck, meeting his eyes. “You’re not leaving my sight ever again, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”_ _

__

__Just when she thinks it’s all over, the life she’d briefly tasted dissipating with James’ patience, a series of harsh footsteps sound in the dirt behind her. Maria shrieks as she’s forcefully teared from James’ arms, until she sees Philip positively seething from above her, George Eacker not far behind._ _

__

__“Guess it’s time for me to kill him,” he grunts, passing Maria off to George before he approaches her husband. Eacker’s rambling apologies for exposing her into his ear, but she can’t hear him. She just watches this angel of a teenager approach the man who ruined her with not a trace of fear in his eyes._ _

__

_He’s just like his father, I swear._

__

__“James Reynolds!” Just hearing Alex’s voice makes all of this okay, somehow. She dizzily watches as he steps behind his son, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “You need to step back, right now.”_ _

__

__James’ crooked laughter and Alex’s booming voice stop a few students’ commute across campus. “She’s my wife, Hamilton!” He gets into Alex’s face, and Maria is stuck by just how ugly he is, his face pale with his rage and his teeth jagged behind chapped lips. “You don’t get to do a damn thing, no matter how good that pussy is.”_ _

__

__Maria’s sure Alexander’s about to attack, if Philip doesn’t get to him first; but all of a sudden, Eliza approaches between them all, leaving a quick, lingering touch on Maria before putting a much more domineering hand on her husband and son. “Alex,” she says, and that’s all it takes to make him move back. “Philip,” she says, and it takes a little bit longer for him to relax, but he eventually does, falling back to stand with Maria and George._ _

__

James is eyeing Eliza up and down, almost salivating. “And how can I help _you_ , ma’am?” 

__

“By moving the fuck back and never speaking to my family again.” Eliza approaches him so fast, he hardly has time to blink before she’s shoved him backwards. “Never talk to us. Never seek us out. And you can never, _ever_ come onto my son’s college campus ever fucking again. Do you hear me, rat bastard? Are you understanding the words coming out of my mouth?" 

__

__James moves to chuckle, or push her back, or do something on the offensive; but he must realize he’s outnumbered, because he simply trots away a few more feet. “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear.” He tips his bowler in both of the woman’s directions, making sure he meets Maria’s eyes and holds them. “Susan keeps asking where her Mommy is. Guess I’ll tell her she’s never coming back.”_ _

__

__With that, he strides the way he came, his chin as high as it’s always been._ _

__

__“Philip—” Maria starts, but the boy’s already scooping her into his arms._ _

__

__“I’m so fucking sorry, Maria,” he whispers, and she realizes he’s crying. “I’m sorry I acted like an asshole. You’re right, you didn’t know what else to do, you were afraid…”_ _

__

__Maria simply winds her arms around his neck, letting him weep into her hair and clutch her tight. When he’s gathered himself, he quickly steps back, scoffing under his breath when George produces a handkerchief and wipes off his cheek. “It’s okay,” Maria assures him, scrubbing her fist against his scalp until he laughs and staggers back. “Don’t do it again, and I won’t either.”_ _

__

__She’s very impressed with the steadiness of her voice, and it seems to translate, because Philip finally wanders off with George, the latter’s hand in his back pocket. Maria watches them leave, and as soon as they’ve gone and Alex is mumbling in her ear, “You coming?” all she can do is tiredly follow._ _

__

__Philip isn’t at the house, unsurprisingly. As the Hamilton's lead her down the hall, Angelica pokes her head out from the library door. “Miss Maria? Are you alright?”_ _

__

__All Maria can do is shake her head, and the small girl watches them leave with thinly-veiled interest._ _

__

__They walk right past the guest bedroom. Maria’s so exhausted, she doesn’t comment, although it does spark a fresh tinder of terror. She calms down immediately when they walk into the master bedroom. She hardly has the time to take in the gorgeous decor before Eliza’s throwing back the sheets, beckoning to the cool mattress with a welcoming hand. Maria only has to gaze down at her thieved dress before Alex is digging through the dresser; he reveals a small enough set of men’s bedclothes, blue and white stripes with a few loose buttons on the collar. She nearly faints, but, instead, she changes with their backs turned and slips into the bed._ _

__

__Eliza tucks her in, kisses her forehead, but as soon as set to go, Maria whispers, “Stay, please.”_ _

__

__Instantly, Eliza’s shed her dress and shimmies in next to her, her underclothes lacy and unmistakable in the lantern light. Alex follows suit, only kicking off his trousers before he tries to slide in next to Eliza._ _

__

__“No,” Maria whines, and Alex is instantly on the other side of her, so she’s protected on all fronts by warm, safe bodies._ _

__

__She still doesn’t cry. She only presses her lips to Eliza’s, letting their legs wind together underneath the covers. Alex lays his face against her neck, and she’s positive he falls asleep the minute his eyes shut, but her feelings aren’t hurt. She loses herself in Eliza, trying to forget about the past few days, the falsehoods, and the agony. She just melts into her, meeting her tongue every time and gripping her bare arm like a lifeline._ _

__

__After a moment, Eliza pulls back, and kisses all over Maria’s face. When she’s done, Maria’s a mess, and Eliza just giggles and grips her collar again._ _

__

__“Maria,” she mumbles, “I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again.”_ _

__

__Alexander throws his arm over her waist in unconscious agreement._ _

__

__─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───_ _

__

__She lays her sweltering palm against the cool of the carriage window. Peering out from the curtains, Maria can make out the dim outlines of unlit buildings and locked doors. It’s a godawful hour of the night, a time when she should be asleep in Alexander and Eliza’s arms. Instead, the three are on their way to the Reynolds’ household._ _

__

__She’d been so weary the night before, passing out hadn’t been too hard; but the next morning, she’d been nearly inconsolable. Alexander has the weekend off, and Philip doesn’t have any classes, so it seems the hours had passed with everyone taking turns to sit with her. Philip spent the better part of lunch telling her everything he knows about his boyfriend, and Eliza took her to the greenhouse to treat the flowers. Even so, she’s been as silent as Sally, as morose as John Adams._ _

__

__It’s Alex who finally got her to talk. Philip assumed she’d been upset because of James, and Eliza is too soft a soul to pry any further than the surface; so neither asked, and she lived inside of her head._ _

__

__Until Alexander took her hand (gently, always gently) and led her into his office, the very one she and Eliza had laid in contentment the day before. His desk had been covered with parchments, some empty, but most layered in scratchy writing and blotches of ink. He beckoned for her to sit, which she did._ _

__

__“That one right there,” he said, pointing to a specific letter sitting in the middle of the mess. She isn’t quite the best at her letters, but she can gather the gist of it, so she squinted and started to read aloud._ _

__

“ _Dear Mr. Reynolds…_ ” Her voice caught in her throat, but Alex started rubbing circles into her shoulder blade, so she kept going. “ _I am writing to you today to re...request your i-immediate surrend...er of one Susan Reynolds. You are the d-definition of an unfit father, and I will be making a formal c...complaint to President Washington on your wife’s behalf._ ” 

____

____

She couldn’t go on, lest she splashed tears on the paper. She grabbed the hand on her shoulder, letting her eyelids fall shut. “You can’t send this, Alexander,” she’d mumbled, her free hand fidgeting with the corner of the page. “No matter what we do, he’s going to report me to the police, and I’ll never see my daughter again.” 

__

__“We can’t just sit here!” His tone remained low, but she could tell his debating voice was creeping in, and she bit back a smile despite herself. “No matter what happened, Washington only has to take a look at you to know what needs to be done.”_ _

__

__She really did grin that time, but it’s small and defeated. “Sure. Then all James needs to do is make a list of all the powerful men I shared a bed with, and all the money that they’ve given me, and I’m finished. Susie will be taken away, I’ll be in prison, and...I’ll never see you again.”_ _

__

__Alexander held her close, burying his face in her neck, as if it’d keep her there. They sat like that for a while, until Maria accidentally began to think. Before the Hamilton's, she didn’t do that much; it’d been so much easier to turn her brain off, to listen to James and let the agony wash over her blank mind. But, here, she starts thinking, and of her own accord. The only reason she’d left Susan with James is because it’s the single good thing about him: he’d never, ever hurt her. Maria’s never heard him raise his voice at her, and she’d been home often before her and James’ misadventures began._ _

__

__But what’s been keeping her hostage in terror is the thought that that might change, that James won’t have his sexy punching bag anymore and he’ll have to turn to the five-year-old cheerfully chattering to herself in the next room. Maybe he’ll even attack Sally, if she’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides all of that, honestly, she just wants to see her child again. She wants to take her away from that man and introduce her to the pure kindness she’s been subjected to._ _

__

__She tapped Alex on the back of the head, and he peeked up at her, eyes misty. Maria forced a confident smile._ _

__

__“I have an idea.”_ _

__

__So here they sit, the harrowing night shrouding them in shadows as they approach. Maria pulls away from the window to take Alex’s hands, letting Eliza lean against her protectively. They’ve opted to share a seat. “You sure I can’t come with you?” Alex asks, the worry heavy in his tone._ _

__

__Maria shakes her head, lifting his palms up to kiss his knuckles. “You’re back-up, remember? He’s not going to buy it if he sees you two. I promise, if he looks like he’s gonna get rowdy, you can come out and rescue me. Okay?”_ _

__

__Alex huffs a laugh, but he coincides well enough. Eliza, on the other hand, only seems to grow more and more anxious as they park outside the abode. She practically nuzzles into Maria's shoulder, which is clothed in a charmingly collared blouse. Refusing to wear any sort of dress to see him, but still wise enough not to show up in a full uniform, she’d gone with the practical shirt and a long, black skirt. Her shoes are some hand-me-down loafers from Philip, who, for some reason, has refused to let go of any of the clothes he’s owned since age six. It makes her feel a little more in control, a little more powerful._ _

__

__“It’ll be okay,” Maria mumbles, petting Eliza’s hair and marveling at how quickly their roles have reversed. “I have to do this.”_ _

__

__Eventually, Eliza sits up, planting a long kiss on Maria’s forehead before she nudges the door open. She makes sure to keep her and Alex’s faces in the dark. “Come back to us, baby.”_ _

__

__Alex looks like he might kick the door shut and gather Maria into his arms once more, so Maria says, “I will,” and hops onto the damp grass._ _

__

__She raps on the door, and the feet that tromp up to her are hard not to recognize. She’s heard those steps every day of her life, ever since she was fifteen and dressed in all white. These steps have meant torture, rough sex, and the man who had been in charge of every aspect of who she is. She latches on to the sound of those steps, because, this time, it means release._ _

__

__James doesn’t seem surprised when he opens the door, but he plasters a sickly-sweet smile onto his face and takes his hat off. “Maria,” he says softly, and she remembers the times that voice had swept her off of her feet. Now, it makes her aching skin crawl. “And dressed to the nines to boot. To what do I owe the pleasure?”_ _

__

__Maria’s been acting for the past six years. No matter how frightened she is, she can slip into a role and turn off her thinking entirely. So, she does; she cocks her hip, sniffles, and brushes her hair behind one shoulder. “I’m so sorry, James,” she says, making sure her tone is fearful and her bottom lip is thrust out. James’ grin doubles in merriment. “I was an idiot. I thought the Hamilton's could give me what I wanted, but...but I was wrong. Would you take me back? Please? I’ll do anything, you know I will.”_ _

__

__Placing the bowler on some furniture nearby, James holds out his arms, and Maria slides into them easily; she’s done it enough times, surely. He starts stroking her back, mumbling nonsense he must think she wants to hear, and she can almost pretend that this is really what she’d be coming back to. James has his moments, of course: the kiss after the slap, the lotion he’d sometimes rub on her after a rough night, or the real smile he’d flash if she said something worth his while._ _

__

__But one of his hands brushes against a bruise, one of the disgusting, lasting ones that he’d kicked onto her ribs until she’d run out of air to beg him to stop, and she knows she can’t ever come back to this. Not after Eliza’s perfect mouth, something that never screamed or bit, nor Alexander’s hands, the ones that regarded her with worship. Never again._ _

__

__James pulls back, resting a rough hand on her cheek, and Maria winds back to punch him directly in the face._ _

__

__She’s never done it before, so she’s a little worried it won’t land; but sure enough, James staggers back a step, the shock overshadowing his anger. She darts underneath his arm, looking around the cluttered living room to gather herself before she barrels into the hallway. She sidesteps boxes of paperwork and bills to trip into Susie’s bedroom, panting and gripping at her blouse._ _

__

__Susie looks up from the book in her lap, and her small, caramel face breaks out into a smile. “Mama!” She throws the book to the floor and clobbers into her, giggling as Maria scoops her up and clutches her tight. Sally glances past the novel tucked into her own hands, a similar smile forming; but when she sees Maria, she cocks her head to the side in a question._ _

__

“Good evening, Miss Bullet,” Maria stammers, waddling to the closet with her daughter on her hip to shove random outfits into the tiny suitcase hidden within. “Sally. I met your brother the other day, he’s dating the son of the people I’m staying with. Real sweet kid, just like his sister. But me and Susie are leaving right now. James is about to come back in, and he is _not_ happy.”

__

__Sally hesitates, seeming to chew on this for a split-second, before she quickly stands. Gathering all of her books into her arms, she crosses the room to lay a kiss on Susie’s forehead. She meets Maria’s eyes, then, and with all the seriousness of an executioner, she points to the front door, then points to her temple._ _

__

__“Boom,” she says, and then she’s gone out the back entrance._ _

__

__Maria zips up the bag wildly, throwing it over her free shoulder and nearly toppling over. Susie glances at her mother in confusion, clutching at her collar. “What’s wrong with Father, Mama?” she asks, the knowledge on her face breaking Maria’s heart._ _

__

__“I decided we’re going to go, and he’s real mad about it.” Susan nods, as if she could understand the implications of this. “So we’re gonna make a run for it out the door, okay? You get to meet my new friends, and the horses, and there’s kids your age—”_ _

__

__The shouting that sounds from the front lawn sends Maria sprinting out the bedroom door, clearing the foyer in a matter of steps and barreling out the door. James is on the ground, trying to wrestle Alex off of his chest. Instead of this working, it only enrages him further, as he starts wailing down on his face, trying to keep him from moving._ _

__

" _ALEX_!” Maria yells, and Alexander leaps off of him, brushing his shirt off in a hurry. “LET'S GO!" 

__

They stumble into the carriage, slamming the door shut. Even so, Maria can still see him sitting in the dirt, can still hear him screaming at her: “You’re fucking _finished_ , Maria! You hear me?! I’m telling the police about the town whore, and how you tricked me and stole from me and decided to lay with both of the fucking Hamilton's! How about that?! I’ll tell them you kidnapped my daughter! I’ll tell them you’re turning her into a tribade! I’ll ruin you! I’ll fucking _end_ you!”

__

__Maria curls herself around her daughter, covering her ears and weeping profusely as the carriage rumbles away. It’s funny, almost; she hadn’t really cried since she was a child, after she’d shed tears of happiness at the altar. Ever since then, she’d simply been too numb to let her feelings out like that. After meeting the Hamilton's, it seems she’s cried everyday, constantly._ _

__

__It feels good._ _

__

__“It’s okay, Mama,” she eventually registers, and she looks down to see Susan gripping her hand. “We’re safe now. Father can’t hurt you anymore.”_ _

__

__Maria sniffles a little, then adjusts Susie so she’s wrapped up in her, but she can still see the others in the carriage. “Susie, this is Eliza and Alexander Hamilton. We’re going to be staying with them for a while, if that’s alright.”_ _

__

__“Nice to meet you, my lady.” Alexander reaches a hand out, and Susan shakes it with vigor._ _

__

__She turns to Eliza, who smiles and does the same. “You’re just as pretty as your mama, Susan.”_ _

__

__Susie giggles, hiding her face in Maria’s blouse. “That’s a lie! Mama’s the prettiest woman in the whole world.”_ _

__

__Alex hums his ascent, and they ride back home in a comfortable quiet._ _

__

__─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───_ _

__

__Susie looks precious, dressed in one of Angelica’s nightgowns and nuzzled into the guest bed. She’d spent the evening holed up with the sister, taking great delight in making up elaborate stories with her many dolls. Her late dinner of leftover meat pie had been the best thing she’d eaten in months, according to her; she’d had such a blast in the giant tub, Maria couldn’t find it in her to scold her for leaving water on the floor._ _

__

__On cue, she yawns, nestling closer into the cool sheets. Maria strokes her freshly-brushed hair, kissing her cheek. “I’ll be a few rooms over if you need me, okay, angel? I’ll come get you in the morning for breakfast.”_ _

__

__Susan rubs at her eyes. ‘I’m a big girl, Mama! I won’t wake you up.”_ _

__

__Maria pulls the blankets up to her chin, giving her one last peck before she blows out the lantern and quietly shuts the door behind her. She wanders down the grand hallway, taking in the brief measure of calm she’s gained. Her daughter is safe. _She’s_ safe. No matter what James does to her tomorrow, or what will become of her when the truth comes out, tonight, she’s okay._ _

__

__As soon as she slips into the master bedroom and leans against the door, Eliza’s hands are on either side of her face, her beautiful smile radiating nothing but love. “May I?” she asks, and the breathlessness of her voice suggests she and Alex have been preparing for her arrival._ _

__

__“You may,” Maria grins, and their lips are on each other’s. They waste no time prying their mouths open, Eliza’s tongue darting inside to lap at her. Maria makes a strangled noise, scrabbling at Eliza’s dress to gain purchase, but she quickly pulls back._ _

__

__Before Maria can complain, she takes a handful of her black skirt. “You want to change into something more comfortable?” she asks, the lowest she’s ever heard said, and Maria nods so fast, she almost falls to the floor._ _

__

__Alexander hands her the outfit, seemingly proud of himself for his choice. She gets tangled in her blouse, but she puts on the dress pants and the button-up at a rapid speed. While their backs are turned, she grabs something else out of the dresser, but doesn’t allude to it._ _

__

__“Okay,” she chimes, and the Hamilton's turn to face her._ _

__

__Eliza puts her hands to her mouth and Alexander blushes a few shades darker. “Holy shit,” he says eloquently._ _

__

__She pivots slightly to see herself in the full-body mirror, and even she startles. The shirt is a dark blue, all-over polka dots almost blending into the surface fabric. It fits her well, but the chest is somehow a little loose, so the outline of her breasts is hindered. The pants hug her hips well, but taper off at the calf, making her look sturdier, taller. She looks up at her face, and realizes she isn’t wearing a spot of makeup._ _

__

__She doesn’t think she’s ever been this aroused in her life._ _

__

__Alex and Eliza must feel the same, because she’s suddenly tossed onto the mattress, the two scooting up on either side of her._ _

__

__Eliza runs her fingers underneath the hem of the shirt. After a moment’s thought, she meets Maria’s eyes and mumbles, “You’re such a handsome boy.”_ _

__

__Maria whines, suddenly trembling like a virgin. She never could have expected that, and if she had, she’s sure she would’ve rejected it; but hearing it leave Eliza’s lips, seeing her flat chest and strong legs and feeling so safe, it’s all she wants to hear._ _

__

__“Am I?” she whispers, and Alex curses behind her. She can feel how badly he wants to touch her, but he’s forcing himself to keep still. He doesn’t want to scare her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, because he cares about her that much._ _

__

__Eliza traces the goose-flesh of her belly, then beneath the hem of her pants. She can’t seem to decide where she wants to end up, but she hasn’t broken eye contact yet. “You are,” she affirms, settling on the curve of her slim hip. She doesn’t apply pressure on the bruises, because she’d never dream of it. “Look at you, all dressed up for us. You must be a good boy, too, huh?”_ _

__

__Maria nods, having to shut her lids so she doesn’t jump out of her skin. “Yes,” she whispers, and Alex has to rest a hand on her leg to keep himself sane. Gentle. Careful. She leans against him._ _

__

__“Do you know what good boys get?” Eliza asks, hand raising itself just a bit north. Maria shakes her head, still blind. “Alex knows. Tell her, baby.”_ _

__

__A million images of Alexander being good for Eliza race through Maria’s mind, but before she can sort through them, Alex’s strained voice murmurs from behind her, “We get something good.”_ _

__

__Maria’s not wearing a shift, so Eliza finds it easy to slip a hand against her bare chest. “Can I?” she hums, and Maria murmurs her approval. Eliza squeezes her nipple softly, so softly, before kneading her breast in her palm and bending down to kiss at the exposed skin under her top buttons. She’s not sure if she should lean into Alex or rub up against Eliza, so she grinds against the both of them, wanting to feel everything at the same time._ _

__

__Eliza’s other hand drops to her fly, and with provocation dripping from her words, she asks, “Can I touch your cock, Maria?”_ _

__

__If Maria hadn’t wept herself dehydrated the past few days, she might’ve burst into tears at the sheer throb of pleasure that rocks through her. Instead, she bumps her hips into Eliza’s palm, throwing a hand back to clutch at Alex’s. “Please,” she cries out, her thighs tight around her hand. “Please touch my c-cock, I’ve been a good boy, Eliza, I promise.”_ _

__

__Eliza’s cool demeanor drops a bit as she licks her lip, taking a long breath, and then she’s content to slide her index finger across the seam between Maria’s legs. Maria chokes on another moan, and, with a burst of bravery, she kicks her leg back to press her foot against Alex’s erection._ _

__

__“Oh, fuck me,” Alex groans into the back of her neck, squeezing her fingers tightly. “Thank you, Maria, good boy, thank you…”_ _

__

__Eliza chuckles under her breath, easily undoing Maria’s jean buttons and yanking them down her thighs. “Insatiable, the both of—”_ _

__

__The words stop in her throat. Maria’s confused for a second, until she looks down and remembers what she put on._ _

__

__“ _Maria_ ,” Alex whimpers, his free hand moving down to lay against the soft, black breeches that cling to her thighs. “You’re...those are...those…”_ _

__

__Eliza interrupts him with a growl, slowly but surely creeping her fingers underneath the fabric of the liberated undergarment. “Baby boy,” she mutters, and Maria bucks against her hand, desperate to feel her, “you look so fucking beautiful. I’m gonna jerk that pretty cock of yours now, okay?”_ _

__

Maria’s pretty sure her brain has just fried, but she manages to nod, and Eliza’s suddenly caressing her wet clit—no, her wet _cock_ —with experienced fingers. Maria wails, one hand cutting off circulation to Alex’s wrist, the other gripping the sheets below her, and her heel rocks back and forth to get Alex off. It’s almost overwhelming how good she feels. She grinds her cock against Eliza, who gets the message and starts dragging three fingers against her. The movements are so practiced, she’s had to have done this before, which ends all thought processes from there. 

__

__All of a sudden, something strange starts to happen. Maria’s stomach starts burning, the sounds leaving her throat higher and faster, and she’s migrated her hand to Eliza’s corset to pull at the strings. She starts whispering, “Eliza, I don’t...Eliza...please, please, I…”_ _

__

__“Shh,” Eliza whispers, and her middle finger ruts itself against the head of her sensitive dick. “Come, sweet boy. C’mon.”_ _

__

__She doesn’t know what that means, but she obeys anyways. Her brain goes from overworked to imploded, and the rush of energy and elation that shoots out of her fingertips might possibly be the best thing she’s ever experienced. She can’t even tell what she’s saying, what she’s doing; she’s lost in it for a good minute, writhing against Alex and clinging to Eliza for dear life._ _

__

__When she opens her eyes, Eliza’s beaming ear-to-ear. “Was that the first time that’s ever happened?” she asks, and Maria manages a nod._ _

__

“The world is unjust,” Alex croaks from behind her, caressing the swell of her ass. Jesus Christ, she thinks she _likes_ when he does that. “Cities need to be burned down.” 

__

__She giggles under her breath, but keeps her hand underneath the strap of Eliza’s corset. Slowly, meeting her eyes, she slips it off of one side of her waist, then the other. She hasn’t had near enough practice at this, but she can still easily unstrap the back and take the whole thing off, along with her shift._ _

__

__Eliza’s breathtaking. Her breasts are much bigger than Maria’s, and flushed pink across the skin. Without a word, Maria breaches the inches between them and puts a nipple in her mouth._ _

__

__“Oh,” Eliza breathes. Maria takes this as incentive to suck on her, taking the other in her hand to imitate what the older woman had been doing. Her noises keep her going, and she’s spurred on when she eventually notices Alex’s touching himself._ _

__

That is, until Eliza whispers, “No, Alex,” and he stops immediately. _Immediately_. “You have to wait. Don’t you want to be a good boy like Maria?” 

__

__Maria feels her cock stirring again, especially when Alex whimpers out, “Yes, ma’am.” She drifts down to kiss at Eliza’s stomach, her belly button, and then, she takes the hem of her stockings in between her teeth and drags them down. Oldest trick in the book._ _

__

__Without hesitation, Eliza scoots back against the pillows and spreads her legs, so Maria adjusts herself until she’s in between them. Eliza is just...it’s indescribable, how gorgeous she is and how good she smells, and all Maria can do for a minute is caress and kiss the inside of her thighs._ _

__

When she’s gathered herself, she leans down onto her palms, eyeing her reward before placing a single, soft kiss against Eliza’s clit. She whines, her fingers winding themselves in her hair, so Maria does it again, and again, until Eliza’s pushing her face down and begging as elegantly as one can, “Please, sweet boy, _please_." 

__

___So, she pleases. She licks a stripe from the bottom to the top, then does it again and again. Eliza’s a swearing, sweating mess, and Maria knows Alex must be gripping his clothes in madness, having to watch. She tries a few circles against her clit, which she likes, so she goes a step further and pushes her tongue into the warm wetness enveloping her._ _ _

__

___“Maria…” Eliza cries out, both legs clamping around her face. She almost feels suffocated, surrounded by flesh and taste and heat, but in the best way possible. She grips the legs engulfing her and dives in, doing everything she thinks might make Eliza do the same thing she did. Alex starts petting Eliza’s stomach and Maria’s hair respectively, and she’s struck by just how at home she feels._ _ _

__

___After a few moments, Eliza begins to wriggle against her, encouraging words fading into strangled moans. Excited, Maria brushes her index finger against her before slipping it in beside her tongue, and that’s the ball game. With a shudder, Eliza comes, and if Maria thought she tasted good before, she’s pressing her face as deep as possible to lick every drop out of her._ _ _

__

___At some point, Eliza’s patting her head to move away, so she does. Eliza looks like the happiest woman on earth, and Maria’s buzzing at the fact that _she_ did that. She’s pleased with herself, and she’s pleased, for the first time in years, that she made someone feel good. That she wanted to._ _ _

__

___Eliza rubs her thumb over Maria’s wet lip, gathering the remnants of what’s left and sucking it off of her fingers. Maria’s about to whimper, but Alex beats her to it, so she rolls over to face him. His entire body is red, cock prominently pressed against his trousers, and his fingers are twisted in the sheets in a mix of agony and libido. They meet eyes, and Maria smiles. “Can I touch him, Eliza?”_ _ _

Instead of allowing her to answer, Alexander shakes his head rather violently. Maria feels her heart twist, worried she’s done something wrong, until he mumbles, “Don’t worry about it, baby. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” 

Maria can only smile wider, and before Alex can continue, she’s pressing her palm against his clothed cock. His mouth falls open in surprise. “I want to,” she assures, pressing their foreheads together and kissing his nose. “You make me feel so good, Alex. I want you to feel the same.”

He makes a sound akin to a dying thing and Maria takes this as incentive to reach underneath his pants and breeches to take his dick in her hand. She’ll admit, she’s a little terrified; she can’t recall the last time she’d had a willing, fun time with someone who owned a penis. 

_You have one, too_ , a voice deep in the back of her head says, and her face lights up. 

___“C’mere, Alex.” When he doesn’t move, Maria grabs his hips and rolls atop him, grinding her cock against his. “I’m...I’m h-hard for you, don’t you feel it?”_ _ _

___Alex preens, finally matching her hips, and they fall into a harsh rhythm. She’s as hard as ever, now, feeling a good man loving her, kissing her, wanting her to be comfortable. She’d have thought it impossible, last week. Today, she bends down to look into Alexander's eyes, beaming. “Are you gonna come in your pants?” she asks, almost timid, and all Alex can do is hide his face in her neck as he loses it. She hasn’t even unzipped him yet._ __

__When he comes down, all three seem to fall against each other, shedding their remaining clothes to press skin-to-skin-to-skin. Maria rests her cheek against Eliza’s breast, Alex nuzzles into her lap, and they pull the thinnest sheet atop them, to keep the chills at bay. They lie in the candlelight for a while, content to listen to the others’ breathing._ _

____

___After a while, though, that haunting feeling from that afternoon returns to Maria, and she grabs at Eliza’s shoulder weakly. Alex rests his chin on her hip, eyeing her curiously. “Maria?” he asks, and Maria uses her other hand to comb through his hair._ _ _

____

__

____

___“I’m worried,” she admits, because there are no lies between them anymore. Never again. “James will find the authorities first thing in the morning, I guarantee you. Then, we’ll all be ruined.”_ _ _

____

__

____

___Eliza hums, seeming to ponder this conundrum, as Alex closes his eyes to search for the fact lost in his brain. When Maria thinks they’ve both fallen asleep, Alexander leaps off the mattress and onto his feet. “I’ve got it!” he exclaims, and sprints, naked, to the desk._ _ _

____

__

____

___“Alex?” Eliza ponders, but Alexander’s grabbed a quill and started writing on a blank piece of parchment. Maria watches him curiously, tracing Eliza’s pale ribs. He sits there for a number of minutes, not acknowledging when the women occasionally call out to him. Finally, he looks up, eyes bright and hands stained with ink._ _ _

____

__

____

___He sidles in between them, producing the parchment. “Tell me what you think, ladies,” he announces, and holds the page in everyone’s eyesight._ _ _

____

__

____

_"The spirit of jacobinism_ ,” Eliza begins, “ _if not entirely a new spirit, has at least been clothed with a more gigantic body and armed with more powerful weapons than it ever before possessed. It is perhaps not too much to say that it threatens more extensive and complicated mischief to the world than have hitherto_...Alex?" 

____

__

____

___He waves his hand, pointing lower on the page. “Start there.”_ _ _

____

__

____

Maria picks it up, although she pauses a few times for pronunciation: “ _The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper pecuniary speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time, with my own wife’s consent. We have engaged in a polyphiliac relationship, with every party's participation taken into serious account. This confession is not made without a blush, for I cannot be the apologist of any vice, because the ardor of passion between the three of us is tremendous, and beautiful. I can never cease to condemn myself for the pang, which it may inflict in a bosom eminently entitled to all my gratitude, fidelity and love._

____

__

____

_“Reynolds means to report our lover to the authorities for crimes he forced her to commit. If Maria had never been made to marry at such a young age, she’d have gone on to college, to political standing, and to success. Instead, James Reynolds has stripped her of her right to autonomy, and intends to ruin the happiness we’ve discovered with proof of criminal activity. I can assure you, the American public, that the only crime we have committed is being in love. You shall be our judge._

____

__

____

_“Signed, Alexander, Eliza, and Maria Hamilton_.” 

____

__

____

___Maria was wrong, for she still has tears inside of her. She crumples, sobbing against Eliza and clutching Alex’s stained fingers to her own. They both cling to her, letting her release one last painful, ugly cry._ _ _

____

__

____

___When she’s gathered herself, she sits up, meeting both of their faces._ _ _

____

__

____

“What are you waiting for?’ she asks, smiling. “Let’s send it out right now.”

____

__

____

And so they do.

____

__

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

_Have you read this?_

____

__

____


End file.
